


"You're leaving?"

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: The Great (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Letters, Misunderstandings, Orlo is a useless hopeless romatnic, saying 'I love you' for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: Request: Saying 'I love you' for the first time.
Relationships: Count Orlo / Reader, Orlo (The Great TV 2020)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 15





	"You're leaving?"

**“Y** ou’re leaving?” You called.

The Empress’ words were proven true as you caught sight of the Count packing. He had just one trunk at the foot of his bed, half full, already impractically heavy with more books than a simple carriage ride to the front would require. As swept into his room he was adding more unopened correspondence from the stack on his desk, and he turned in shock at the sound of your voice.

“Who told you?”

“Catherine,” you brushed the question aside, “why did you not inform me?”

“I wanted to, however the trip was rather last minute. I, um, wrote you… a letter.”

His words were slowed as he fumbled with papers on his desk, looking through envelopes until he found one with your name on the front. His looping script was still wet, smudging under his thumb as he held the folded paper out to you, making him curse and seek out a handkerchief to wipe the ink from his hands with.

You took the letter with bemusement, his seal still warm as your fingers reached to unfasten it.

Orlo returned with the ink on his hands dried, before looking to you in a panic.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, reaching to still your hands, but pausing before his skin touched yours.

You ceased tearing off the seal for a second.

“I had not intended for you to open it… I mean… I had intended to drop it off and leave.”

“You would not tell me you’re leaving in person?”

The hurt in your voice was so unabashed that you saw Orlo physically recoil, rushing forward to comfort you, once again stopping before the two of you touched.

Your relationship was still new, its boundaries untested and unestablished.

You had barely begun to exchange light kisses, each making you as giddy as a school girl, but already you had developed some true, deep connection to one another. In truth, you could see yourself marrying the Count – if he would only use his world-class communicative skills to share more of himself with you.

“I will only be gone a few days, and I fear… I mean…”

He took a deep breath, restarting.

“I would have found it difficult to say goodbye in person,” he explained.

You sighed.

“But I would hope you could summon the strength to do it anyway. It may be difficult, but it would have meant a lot to me. I was devastated that Catherine was the one to tell me you were going away. She assumed I knew, and I was mortified that you had kept this from me.”

“It was only decided upon hours ago…”

“And yet you found time to write me a letter?”

At that, Orlo hung his head in shame, the argument seemingly won in your favour. You felt a little bad, knowing how the shame would eat at him.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, sincerely remorseful in a way which made you sigh with affection for him.

“It is okay. Know for next time.”

“I will. I promise.”

The two of you stood silently for a moment, Orlo’s packing halted despite his time constraint, and your fingers fumbling the sealed letter, unsure when you would be allowed to open it. The curiosity was killing you, suspense hanging in the air until a couple of guards entered the room with grovelling apologies.

The carriage was waiting, they said.

It was time to go, to catch the best of the daylight, they said.

Orlo nodded quietly as his manservant filled the trunk with folded clothes, and dressed him in a coat.

The letter stayed clenched in your hand as he big you a gentle goodbye, a peck on the lips making you flush as an entourage of people led him rapidly from the room.

When he was gone you suddenly found yourself left alone in his chambers, feeling the echo of him around you as you sank into the well-worn seat at his desk. Then you opened the letter.

For the most part what he had written was simply an explanation, his true reasoning for going, his motivation and his duty to Catherine and to the Russian people. His secrecy about the letter now made sense, of course. But not his embarrassment.

And then you reached the last few lines, his neat font bleeding a little more into the paper, his words slower and more deliberate. Each bearing more weight than the strategy and logistics detailed above. You checked again to make sure you were alone, tracing his words as you read.

_I will count each hour I am away, I am sure they will pass slower, when I am missing you. My thoughts of returning home shall be fond only because you will be there._

_I love you, dearest._

_Orlo_

For a moment the paper did nothing but tremble in your hand as you read the lines, thinking of Orlo’s face earlier, how he had been unable to allow you to read these words and then look back to his face. Like a blow, the memory of his words as he packed came back to you.

“ _I would have found it difficult to say goodbye in person_ ,” he had told you.

You didn’t want him to go, you realised. You were nervous at the idea he might not come back.

Without a second thought you refolded the letter, and ran for the front entrance, praying his carriage had not left yet. You had no concern for how you might look, how frantic or unladylike, how everyone might talk. You had to catch him, and make sure he knew.

To make sure he had not left on such an important journey ignorant of your feelings for him.

“I love you, Orlo.”


End file.
